


All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here

by xo_princess



Category: Batman (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_princess/pseuds/xo_princess
Summary: After his death and rebirth, Damian keeps having dreams about hell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A reminder that I'm new to writing, so go easy on me. This was inspired by the first issue of Son of Batman where Damian has the nightmare that sparks his Year of Atonement. And also, Dante's The Inferno.

It’s colder than normal, even for Gotham. The snow on the ground crunches beneath Damian’s black leather shoes as he stands in front of the grave. He pushes his hands into his jacket pockets seeking warmth. 

Talia al Ghul 

“Mother,” he whispers, but it’s Dick that replies. 

“Nope,” the taller man walks up. “No one out here in this weather but us ghosts.” Next to Talia’s grave was Damian’s own. Dug up now, the empty pit was lightly lined with a white snow blanket. 

“Tt. Like normal, you only think you know what you’re talking about, Grayson.” With the low temperature, Damian can see his breath as he talks.

“That’s right. You should be considered the expert on dying now. Jason will mourn the loss of the title.” Dick laughs at his own joke before deadpanning so suddenly it almost confusing Damian. “Tell me what it was like, Dami? Dying, being dead? What was waiting for you in the dark before Bruce brought you back from Apokolips? You told me it was dark, that there was nothing. Damian al Ghul, after all of the awful things you’ve done, I find that very hard to believe.”

The boy wasn’t trying to hide his confusion and hurt. “Grayson, what are you-”

When he looks up, standing in the old willow tree by the graveyard, there was Batman. He was shrouded in darkness, eyes burning red. In movements too swift to be human, he was making his way towards them as Dick continues speaking.

“I wore the cowl and cape once, but you? Do you actually believe you could ever be worthy to answer the call of Batman when it comes? You?” 

Damian slowly backs away, but it’s too late. He comes face to face with the cowl and Batman’s white eyes as he pulled forward by the front of his tan jacket. The mouth only inches away from his face shouts venom at him. “What have you done, son?!” 

“Father, I-”

“Stop lying to me and the truth before it’s too late! What is the Year of Blood, Damian?”

The grip on his shoulders doesn’t stop him from shaking. Damian doesn’t know if the fear is coming from what his own answer might be or what his Father will do once he hears it.

When he finally replies, he’s choking back tears. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before Damian could react, there was the Leviathan. There was his blade, sharp and shining as it pierces through Bruce’s chest first and then his own. His blood drips down mixing with his father’s to stain the white shirt he’s wearing. He mutters out a quiet protest. 

“Really, Dami? More lies?” He looked over towards to the voice of his once mentor. “We both know where liars go.” 

“No, wait!” Damian shouted, unable to move from his place on Leviathan’s sword as demons crawled out his grave. They grab for a motionless Grayson and pull him back down into pit, now filled with dirt and maggots. 

From the other grave, Talia crawls out. Her hands find their way to Damian throat, choking him as other demons pull his father's body into the same pit they had taken Dick. “Mother please, stop,” he begged. Her hands are replaced with golden chains pulling both of them down into the depths. 

Her voice was deep with gravel, “Come, my son. Return back with us to where you belong.”

The chains clank and they pull Damian deeper and deeper until everything is black. And then, everything is red and orange as fire blazes around him. The demon lord holding his chains is massive. Damian can’t help but think this beast resembles his grandfather, intimidating and evil. 

“Do not be afraid, my child. Your fate cannot be taken from you. It is a gift,” the ground around them shakes with the demon lord's words. “Yes, I have prepared a place for you.”

The chains force Damian down again as he plunges into an abyss that is a fiery lake. The heat consumes him. His skin melts into liquid and then his bones burst into flames. Everything goes red. He’s screaming or maybe he’s crying. He’s not sure. The only thing he knows is the burning, and fire, and pain. 

The chains pulled what is left of him back up. He’s whole but just barely. Skin dripping off burnt muscle. Pain courses through his whole being, but the demon lord commands him to look and suddenly he can see again. He sees himself, standing tall and proud on the flames of the lake. 

The voice, his own, burns his ear more than the flames did, “I did thirst for blood, and with blood, I fill this lake. Look at the blood of our enemies, how vast our destruction is. I have taken the triumph from the weak. No mercy for fools. Drown in our victory, brother.”

The chains pull him under again.

-

When he wakes up, Dick is sitting on the bed with him. Alfred and Bruce are standing in the doorway to his room. Everyone is in their pajamas. 

“I’m okay,” Damian says to break the heavy silent, but he’s struggling to slow his breathing down. “It was only a dream.”

“You were screaming,” Dick pulls him into a hug. “You need to talk about it. I’m worried this will keep happening, and I hate seeing you like this, Damian.” 

How could he possibly talk about it without confessing his sins? He had taken so much from so many during his Year of Blood.

It’s only been a few months since Damian returned from the dead. Every night, every time Damian closed his eye, he relives hell and the darkness. He feels the weight of all the deaths he’s caused. He can’t help but think it’s ironic. Each act that brought him praise and glory from his mother, could only bring shame and disgust from his father.

-

Lately, the family is reluctant to leave him by himself. He only gets to patrols alone sometimes. Tonight, Bruce is at the Gotham City Orchestra concert with Vicky Vale. He has Alfred in his earpiece checking in every other minute plus Nightwing and Red Robin are unsurprisingly close by if he needs backup. 

It’s a slow night. He stops a gas station robbery and walks a drunk girl to her dorm room. It’s been a half an hour since the last time Alfred checked-in with him. He’s just about to check his communicator when he hears someone approaching from his right. It’s too noisy to be hostile, too slow moving to be Nightwing or Orphan.

“What’s crackalackin, Robs?” Jason says from behind his hood. Damian gives a quick greeting and a comment on how easily noticeable Jason’s approach had been. Jason says Alfred sent him over here to babysit, and he barely has time to dodge Damian’s roundhouse kick. 

“Oh come on, I’m like the best to patrol with. Ask anyone.” 

Damian surrenders easily enough, and they’re off. The night doesn’t get any busier, but the snow is getting thicker. There’s a crackle over both of their coms before Alfred’s voice informs them of an oncoming snowstorm. Alfred suggests Damian staying over at Jason’s safehouse for the night, but Damian is quick to protest.

“I could always send your father to pick you up, Robin.” The thick British accent is baiting. 

“Fine. I’ll return in the morning.”  
-

There’s a mist covering the lake. It’s solid, frozen over from the cold. A wild and bitter wind blow strong enough to push Damian back. He falls to his knees, bringing his hand down to brace himself. Looking down into the ice of the lake, he sees them. All the people that have frozen beneath the lake.

Looking closer he could make out their faces. His father was frozen, empty eyes looking up at him. Dick was there, reaching for the surface. Jason, Alfred, Tim, Barbara, Cassandra… They were all there. Below them were so many other, people who lost their lives at Damian’s hands. The tears freeze to his face as they attempt to fall. He couldn’t stand to look any longer, but his hand had frozen to the lake surface. 

The chill had taken over his limbs and was moving towards his lungs. A gust of wind filled with ice shards slams into his body as if it were a tangible force. It knocks him over breaking his frozen hands from his body as they stayed stuck to the glass lake. 

The scream is silent. His blood was freezing in his veins throughout his body. He hadn’t died, but he wanted to. Breath had left him, and he felt deprived of both life and death simultaneously. This pain, both physical and spiritual, had him praying for redemption that would never come. 

-

When he wakes up, there’s a pain in his jaw. 

“What the hell, Todd?” Damian spat out. “You slapped me in the face.”

Jason shrugged, “You wouldn’t wake up.”

They sit in silent on the red Ikea sofa. It’s five in the morning, and Damian can see the faint light starting to creep into the window where the sun is starting to rise. This is something that only the two of them can really understand.

Jason tilts his head, staring up at the ceiling before he talks, “I got em too, ya know.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from under the cushions of the sofa. He offers one to Damian jokingly before lighting one up. “I was always so angry in my nightmares. Usually, it's muddy as if I just clawed myself out of a grave. I’m butt-naked, and I’m always fighting for no reason. One time, I was punching through a rock, but it’s a fucking rock so I’m not making any progress. I just punch and punch and punch and my damned hands are just nubs, but I keep punching.”

It takes Damian a second to respond. “I dream that I’m drowning in the blood of the people I’ve killed. There’s a whole lake full of blood, and it’s on fire.”

“Heavy,” is the only comment Jason’s five in the morning brain can muster. 

Damian reaches for a cigarette but Jason throws the whole pack across the room. They laugh like they weren’t sharing their darkest nightmares. 

He’s making tea as Jason tells him another nightmare. It’s one where the Joker is beating Jason to death in the Lazarus Pit. “I ain’t dying because I’m in the pit. It’s never ending.”

To his credit, Damian’s voice stays even as he tells his patrol partner his latest nightmare. “It’s the same lake, I believe. All of you, even Father, are frozen beneath it. My hands are so frozen that they break off from my body. I’m crying and the tears are freezing to my face. I cannot breathe, but I’m not dying.” 

He looks up at Jason from over the rim of the cup he’s holding in his hands. He keeps it close to his mouth, but it’s still steaming, too hot to sip from. “Will it ever stop?” 

“Mine did,” is the response. “But it wasn’t until I finally got over myself. I let go of my anger towards Bruce.” Damian shoots him a doubtful look. “Kay, I let go of MOST of my anger at Bruce. Your pops and I, we got different views ‘bout certain things, but we’re still family.” He threw an arm lazily around Damian. 

“Look kid, I don’t know what you’ve been through. Hell, I don’t even wanna think about it, but you gotta face your demons.” 

He hated to admit it, but Jason was right. 

“Fine,” he said as he stood. He gathered his gear, turning back to Jason as climbed out the window. “Can you cover for me while I’m gone?”

Jason gave a nod, “Sure, kiddo. What do you need? A couple days?” 

“I need a year.” 

Spitting out his tea, Jason looked over towards Damian. “A fucking year, man?”

“It’s past time I took responsibility for my training as Damian al Ghul. I’m not that person anymore. I’m a Wayne, and I’m a Robin. I will not have my past transgressions dragging my future down like chains around my neck. A year of atonement is ahead.”

And then he was gone. 

“Well, shit.” 

How the hell was he suppose to explain this to Bruce?


End file.
